The Test Of Time
by TheDarkDoctor
Summary: White and Black were raised in two very places, as two very different people. When they come together as young boys, a bond is formed between them. However, as time goes on, and they are separated by cruel acts of fate, can they really survive the test of time? Future spy slash.
1. Chapter 1

a/n I'm a bad person. Anyhow, this is a rewrite of my previous story, but I wanted to change a few things and I some ideas that I couldn't pass up. Anyhow, let's start, shall we?

Oh, this is part of an AU I created for them. There's the Gray, White, Black, Red, Blue, Green, Purple, Yellow, and Pink embassies. They run countries under their name and are the world powers. When an agent joins the embassy, they drink a special concoction that makes them immortal until they drink the antidote when discharged or retired. Before then, the only way to truly kill an agent is to kill them in one of the many area scattered all over the world where for some unknown reason the concoction won't work. These are called death zones. They are marked out on all agents maps and most agents avoid them at all costs. If anyone wants me to do a separate informative fic I will. Oh, and they have normal human names.

White: Matthieu Clair

Black: Peshka Noch

Disclaimer: Antonio Prohias died the year I was born.

* * *

White Spy (birth: March 11)

The blond woman winced as she finally pushed her third child out of her. It was a large child, but her family lived well enough for her to be numbed on pain killers. She smiled as the young babe was put in her arms. Her husband was next to her, staring lovingly at their new child, a boy. Her mother was in the waiting room with their eldest child, Julien, and his sister, Elaina.

"What shall we name him, mon amour," her husband, Nicolas Clair, purred at her in his French accent. Arielle looked at her new son, analyzing him. It was very likely he would grow to have the light blond hair shared by both his parents, although he could grow to have either his father's brown eye or his mother's blue eyes, or some combination of the two, like his elder brother Julien.

"Perhaps Matthieu," Arielle decided finally, her own French accent very thick. Nicolas smiled and nodded, sitting happily next to his wife for a moment before standing.

"Matthieu is a lovely name," he said. Arielle smiled tiredly, breast feeding her child. "I will go announce his presence to our family." With that he left the room.

* * *

Black Spy  (birth: January 28, three years after White)

The black haired woman screamed and she pushed her first, and she decided her only, child. It was a small child, but childbirth was always painful, and she was very poor, so she couldn't afford any sort of relief. She was giving birth in the middle of her living room, her husband, Pavel Noch, to one side and her wet nurse to the other.

She refused to hold the child when it was brought to her, so the wet nurse handed it to her husband, who shakily held the baby in his arms.

"It's a boy," he announced, a vague smile. He stopped smiling as he turned to his wife. "Galina, it is your responsibility to name him, as much as I would like to." He presented to child to his wife, knowing she had refused him. If the child was crying at all, he was doing it very silently. Galina examined to child quickly. He had tan skin and would inevitably grow to have the deep black hair of his parents. His father had dark brown eyes, though. The child could possibly grow into those instead of his mother's piercing green. She sneered at him. She hated children, and had never wanted one, but her husband always had. According to their village society, she was required to birth at least one son, so at least it was her first one.

"Peshka," she snapped before turning away from her husband and child to sleep. Pavel sat back, looking at her and then his new son, and smiled.

* * *

Alright so before we close off I'll explain their situations.

Matthieu/White's name means gift of god. He is in a loving, well off family in the French area of the White Embassy. The country is split into French, English, American, Canadian, and Germany. It's a rich embassy with a lot of large cities. Matthieu's father is a successful businessman, and his mother runs all of his accounts. Their family has mostly German and English roots, although it is suspected that they are part Danish, which is from an area of the Yellow embassy. His parents obviously love and value him.

Peshka/Black's name basically means worthless. His father obviously cares for him, but as you can see, his mother does not. They are from the Russian area of the Black embassy. The country is split in Russian, Spanish, Italian, Greek, and Romanian. Pavel, Peshka's father, is half Russian (father's side) and half Italian (mother's side) and Galina is half Russian (father's side) and half Romanian (mother's side). Their family is Russian, Italian, and Romanian although they may also be part German and part Scottish, which comes from the Green embassy. His father is a coal miner, and his mother is a housewife. The Black embassy was for a time very powerful, but recently it has gone through very hard times, and the Red embassy is helping it get back up on it's feet, but it's citizens are suffering.

So as you can see we're already facing a massive difference between the two. Matthieu is going to be raised in a rich family that wants him, whereas Peshka is from a very poor family and his mother wants nothing to do with him.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n I don't have much to say this time. Anyway, there will be a few chapters of the boys just on their own, but they'll be meeting in the fourth chapter or so. This story isn't going to be that long, as it's going to keep time jumping (I'll tell you how old they are at the beginning of each section). It's mostly going to be focusing on the more important parts of their lives. There will be little side stories done, and I may or may not do a sequel or two. I have no idea yet.

Disclaimer: Bla bla bla does this one really need a snarky response? Believe, I have an unlimited snarky response supply.

* * *

White Spy (8 years old)

Matthieu happily looked into the pen holding all the kittens. His mother had left him in the pet store while she went to go attend to some business. He had already played with the puppies for a while, and they had messed up his platinum blond hair and gotten it into his ice blue eyes. Knowing his mother wouldn't be too happy with him about that, he went to go look at the kittens.

Like most things he saw, the kittens were fluffy, clean, and white. They had little pink noses and bright blue eyes and they all ran up to him, mewling happily. They began to play, one tumbling over another in a little play fight. Matthieu laughed as he watched them, and then noticed something in the very back corner. It was a scrawny little black kitten, with nervous green eyes. Matthieu opened the gate and walked into the pen, carefully pushing the other kittens aside and kneeling down in front of the black kitten. He put his hand out, and it watched him carefully and sniffed it. It then pushed it's head under his hand and he stroked it gently.

It was smaller than all the other kittens, and while it still had it's kitten fluff, it was sleeker than the rest. It had a little black nose and big green eyes. He noticed how smooth it's fur was as he gently stroked it. It hid under his hand from the other kittens, and pushed itself up against his legs when one of them came up to it. It mewed quietly as the larger, white kitten batted it on the head just a bit to rough. Matthieu gently scooted the white kitten away.

"Do you see one you like," the shop owner asked, kneeling down next Matthieu. He thought for a moment. He would love to adopt the black kitten. He felt an odd attraction to the feeling it gave off, that nervous but loving look in it's green eyes.

"I do," he began, "but my papa and sister are allergic." It was said but true, his father Nicolas and sister Elaina were allergic. His older brother Julien, his mother Arielle, and his younger brother Accel weren't, along with himself.

"Aw, that's to bad," the shopkeeper said. He picked up the black kitten. "Well, I guess that's it little guy."

"What do you mean?"

"He's being euthanized tonight."

"What's euthanimized?" The shopkeeper paused, looking down at the eight year old boy. Evidently he had forgotten who he was talking to.

"He's going to go to sleep," he explained cautiously.

"So can come see him tomorrow," Matthieu said excitedly.

"Probably not. He's going into a very...special kind of sleep," the shop keeper explained. Matthieu nodded as his mother walked into store to pick him up.

He went out with his mother again the next day and stopped by the pet store to see "Nuit" as he had named him. Only there was one problem. All the fluffy white puppies, fluffy white kittens, and fluffy white birds were there. But Nuit was missing.

* * *

Black Spy (5 years old)

Peshka sighed sadly as he twirled his latest invention. He liked to make and tinker with things. He found that the process of taking something apart or putting it together was some of the most fun he had, although usually he did both. He had gotten into a lot of trouble when he had taken apart the oven, even though he had put it back together and it worked even better, his mother still made him put his hand into fire.

He was currently playing with a contraption made out of leaves, a small stick, and a rubber band. It's purpose was to fly. If you twisted the rubber band, it would twist the leaves around so fast that it would hover for a moment before falling. It was meant to be a toy, but he wasn't really that amused. He was mostly trying to take his mind off what had happened that day.

Ever since he was about three years old his mother would leave him outside, sitting there for hours on end. They lived in a place of extreme weather. When it was summer, it was very hot, and when it was winter, it was very cold. His father had to work all day, so he never about this. There was really only one reason Peshka wasn't dead.

There was a big dog that lived in a hole nearby his house. Everyday it would come by and visit him. It was white, with fur that was just thick enough to keep it warm during the winter, and ice blue eyes. During the winter, it would wrap itself around Peshka and keep him warm, and during the summer it would stand over him to shade him, or bring him somewhere that wasn't too hot. It protected him from the other, meaner dogs, and was very friendly to him. All the other children were mean, and they threw rocks at him, but the dog would come and scare them away. He had named the dog "Svet".

Today he had been sitting outside the house in the snow telling Svet about all his ideas, and basically whatever came to mind. His mother had come outside, wondering who he was talking too. She saw Svet, and grabbed him before he could run away, and dragged him inside, locking Peshka outside. What the boy remembered is that just yesterday they had run out of food rations. He screamed and pounded at the door, hearing Svet's pained howls inside.

And then they stopped.

"Peshka," his mother called, opening the door. He walked inside, knowing his father would be home soon. He sat next to their small fire, ignoring the cut up parts of the dog cooking inside their old oven. He remembered every so often playing tricks on the dog, and telling him about the mischief he caused for the other villagers. He missed the animal already.

"I'm home," he heard his father call from the door. He walked over, giving his father a hug. His body hurt a little bit. It had been extremely cold that day, and he was a very skinny and small boy. He didn't have much muscle and practically no fat, so there wasn't much keeping him warm. Also, there was frozen, matted blood in his black hair, and under his clothes was covered in bruises and a few scars from the few times his mother did ever acknowledge him during the day. His father hugged him back, getting a bit of coal dust from the mines on him.

Time almost seemed to fly by for him. He sat at the table, dog meat sitting in front of him. He refused to touch it. In front of him his parents were arguing. He didn't really understand what is was about, he didn't really care anyway. At least, he didn't until his mother pulled out a gun. She grabbed him, pulling him against her, and put the gun to his head. He whimpered as saw his mother prepare to fire.

"Galina," Pavel shouted, frozen in his spot. Any wrong movement could end with his son's brains all over the floor. "Stop and think about you're doing."

"Shut the fuck up Pavel," she spat. "You know I never wanted this brat anyway. I never wanted you either." Peshka was shaking ever so slightly, his green eyes filled with fear. He was holding his breath, waiting for the gun shot to come. "Your father kidnapped me, and gave me to you. I died that day."

"Do you think I wanted this loveless marriage," Pavel sighed. "I wanted to have a child with a woman that I loved. I love my son, but I didn't want him to have this life." Peshka was confused. Was his father saying that though he loved him, but he didn't...want him? Did his name speak the truth? As far as his five year old mind knew, something was only worth something if someone wanted it. His name meant worthless, and nobody wanted him. That meant he was...worthless.

"Well I want you to prove how much you love your son," Galina spat. Pavel nodded in agreement, and Galina tossed a knife over at him. "Kill yourself."

"What," Pavel questioned. "And leave Peshka alone with you?"

"Da," she said. "If you stab yourself in the stomach, I will spare his life." Pavel looked down at the knife, weighing his options. Peshka wanted to shake his head, yell at his father not to do it. He still had a chance to find a woman he loved, and have a child that he actually wanted. Maybe he'd have a million, and he could love and want them all. Tears began falling from his eyes as he saw the man he looked up to pick up the knife, and stab it into his own stomach. His mother released. "Do whatever you need to do, shit. We need to get going soon."

Peshka crawled over to Pavel, sitting next to him. Pavel smiled, reaching up and petting him gently.

"I want you to have this," Pavel muttered to his son. Peshka watched as his father pulled something out of his pocket. It was a golden pocket watch, with just a bit of coal dust on it. Peshka took hold of it gently and smiled sadly. It was the first thing he ever took apart and put back together. He was three years old, and his father had helped him. He had been sick that day, and unable to go to the mines. So instead he sat with his young son and went through all the different parts of the watch."Remember, Peshka, daddy loves you."

Peshka watched as his father took his last few breaths. He couldn't even cry anymore. Everything was gone, everything he cared about at least. He stood up and his mother grabbed him by the arm, dragging out into the snow. They began walking down the road into what seemed like nowhere, but as he was shivering, Peshka remembered all the times his mother talked about her childhood. She had been raised in something called a "cult" and she missed it a lot. The cult dictated that he, as a child, is an unwanted necessity. That's why she hated him.

They were walking back to her cult.

* * *

That took a lot longer to write than I thought it would. Anyhow, tell me what you think. Any USEFUL critiques or compliments or ideas or opinions or whatever. Galina might throw Peshka into any flames that I receive, and we don't want that to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n Aw poor Peshka. I actually feel kind of bad, but at the same time I don't. He's my favorite, therefore I must destroy everything he holds dear. He's lucky I haven't raped him...yet.

Disclaimer: I place claim upon my OCs, the rest I doth not.

* * *

White Spy (10 years old)

Matthieu said, trailing behind his family. His seven year old brother, Accel was running ahead with his thirteen year old brother and twelve year old sister. Nicolas and Arielle wandered behind him. Matthieu looked into the windows of the passing stores, taking mild interest in the bookstores. He wanted to be an author when he grew up, and he would a million big white dogs, and one cat. A small, black cat with green eyes.

"Matthieu," his mother called him out of his trance. She was now walking next to him, his father up ahead with his siblings. "What is wrong, mon cher?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just have a weird feeling. Where are we going, by the way?"

"We are going to- well, we're actually here," she smiled and walked in, knowing that Matthieu would follow her. He paused before running after her, a bit nervous. This was a part of the market he had never been before. There were cages full of people with tan skin and black hair. They looked like the servants at his house. "Your brother is picking out his first manservant today."

"Huh?"

"This is where we buy our servants," Arielle explained. Matthieu looked around. This is where they came from?

"But the people in the cages," he began. "They look so sad."

"Don't worry Matthieu," Arielle chuckled a bit at her son. "They're not people." Matthieu was even more confused. They looked like people. If they weren't people than what were they? "They're from the black embassy."

"What's the black embassy?"

"It's a neighboring country with a lot of problems," she said. "They are very poor and it's full of very bad things, like what you see in the cages."

"But they don't look bad-"

"Well they are bad," she snapped. "They have likely done horrible things in their lives. They are weak, and should feel lucky that we are letting them live." Matthieu tried to hide the horror in his eyes. This made no sense. That wasn't the woman he looked up to and admired. She looked prideful and harsh, not sweet and loving. "If it were up to my family, we would have killed them all a long time ago." She smiled. "But than if we did, there would be no servants." Matthieu nodded silently. "Now go, run to your siblings and help your brother pick out a servant."

In the end, Julien ended up pick a skinny, silent boy named Biagio. Matthieu was silent the entire ride back. Was what his mother said true? It couldn't be. If the people of the black embassy did anything, it couldn't have been worth this. Those people were enslaved, they were sad. He had seen a mother get pulled away from her crying children. That wasn't right. His mother asked him what was wrong, and he told her that the weird feeling hadn't gone away.

When they got home he immediately went into his favorite room in the house, the library. He pulled out a book on the history of their world, and began to read it.

* * *

Black Spy (7 years old)

By seven years of age Peshka had already almost died several times. It didn't matter to him that much, he was already dead inside. But his mother had so far tried to poison, freeze, burn, shoot, drown, and bake him. But he refused to die, even if just to prove to Galina that she couldn't kill him.

The attempted drowning had taken place a few days before his sixth birthday. Galina had taken him to fetch some water from the well, and pushed him inside of it. What she didn't know was that he could swim well enough to survive, and swam back over to the bucket, climbing up the rope. He had slid several times, and when he got up his hands were bleeding from severe rope burn.

The attempted baking had happened a few months ago. He had brought some supplies into the kitchen, where his mother was working. Out of nowhere she had grabbed him, shoving him into the oven and setting it to 400 degrees. He had panicked, trying desperately to think of a way out, and remember his pocket watch. He took out the watch and bashed it against the glass of the oven door, and just as he stopped being able to breath, the glass broke and he was able to climb out.

That was just the way life was for children in the cult. You were treated that way until you reached puberty, at least if you survived long enough to reach puberty. It was a way insuring only the strongest and smartest would survive. Peshka wasn't all that strong, but he was sure as hell smart.

He was sitting under a tree when his mother ran over. She grabbed him by the arm, dragging him over to a line. They were each given a cup of red liquid. He sniffed it. It smelled like fruit juice, but there was something else there. Something he didn't quite recognize.

"Drink up," his mother commanded. "You'll be dead a few minutes after you do. I'm going to heaven with the rest of the adults. You and the other brats, I don't know where you're going. Frankly I don't care." As she tossed her back, drinking her juice like a shot, Peshka poured his onto the ground, wiping his mouth to make it look like he drank the poisoned substance. He laid down next to his mother, and watched as the life left her eyes.

He stated lying down for a few hours, simply to insure that everyone was dead. When he was certain, he stood up and began walking away. He stepped over the bodies, looking down at the faces he recognized. There was the cult leader, and he remembered Galina had joined his harem. There were the other children, who had all hated and tortured him. There were many faces, including his mother's, and none of them invoked emotion. He was certain they were supposed to, but these people meant less than nothing to him. They were peshka, and he, Peshka, was the last survivor.

He came to the rode and began doing what he always did, which was walk. He walked until his feet hurt, and then he walked more. There were no villages nearby, not even his own. He had nowhere to go but forward, and that's where he was going.

Suddenly a pair of arms grabbed him from behind. He yelped as he was lifted off the ground and stuffed into a cage. He was shocked, it had all happened so quickly. Suddenly he could see the rode moving, and it finally dawned upon him what had happened.

Slave traders.

* * *

I'm tired, and their moms are bitches. I mean, with Galina it's just obvious. But than again, she was also raised in a cult, and therefore is probably brainwashed. Arielle is just...damn woman. Well, she was also raised that way.

But Matthieu is smarter than that!

And Peshka is a resilient little guy, is he not?


	4. Chapter 4

a/n And number four begins! By the way, pay a bit of attention to the servants you meet in this chapter it may come in handy ;D.

Disclaimer: I own my OCs.

* * *

White Spy (13 years old)

Matthieu kept his anger hidden from his parents very well. He was always angry, and he didn't know why. He just was. It used to drive him insane, and he felt as though he used to know what it was. But now he no longer remember, and he really didn't care. But today, it was at a high point.

Today was he thirteenth birthday, which meant he had to go to the slave market and pick out his first manservant. He didn't find the business to be very appetizing, and how his family treated the servants they had sickened him. He had in fact made friends with a few of them.

There was Biagio, his elder brother's quiet manservant. Biagio was very kind and very wise, but he was too timid and obedient. He was always afraid of doing something wrong, although it was true that if he did one of the other members of Matthieu's family would likely beat him half to death, just as they did with the other servants.

Also there was the "dynamic duo", Galinthias and Karsten. They had been bought together about five years ago, when Galinthias was nine and Karsten was seven. His father had needed a pair of boys who were afraid of nothing, and it was true that they weren't. Galinthias mostly worked as a valiant stable boy. He was amazing with the horses, and could calm even the wildest of stallions. Still, something about him seemed...unnerving to Matthieu.

Karsten was far more hot blooded than Galinthias, who was in fact very laid back. Karsten had been beaten nearly to death on many occasions, for numerous things. Often times it was protect Galinthias, as they proclaimed they were best friends, although Matthieu suspected something a bit more.

Karsten often had one of the most dangerous jobs in the house. He was commonly labeled a "fox". They were both from the Greek area of the Black embassy, but Karsten was smaller and faster than his friend. He moved very fast, and thus often fell victim to one of Matthieu's family's sickest practices.

"Fox hunting".

Originally it had been sport where rich families would chase and kill actual foxes, but then foxes became favored pets. Matthieu didn't quite understand why. Something about a nobleman domesticating them and now they were pets and therefore one could no longer hunt them. However, they still wanted to participate in the sport, so they found a replacement fox. The foxes were the servants.

Every few months a the head of the family would pick out a handful of servants for the family to hunt. It did not matter what purpose the servant served in the house, if they were picked they were a fox. The hunters carried guns and rode on horses while the foxes ran on their feet armed with nothing but their bare hands. If a hunter caught a fox, he won. The hunt lasted three days, and the servants that survived simply went back to their jobs. There was no reward, only work.

Some men would proudly show off their kills. Matthieu had gone into the business offices of other men with his father and watch them show off their relics. Clothes, assorted body parts, skin, and many more things were on display. It made him want to vomit.

Matthieu walked amongst the cages, looking at the servants. He didn't want to do this, but he had no choice. It was an odd right of passage in rich families. To not do it is considered inexcusable.

He continued to walk through the make shift aisles. His ten year old brother Accel followed behind him, looking around him, ecstatic. Matthieu was concerned for the boy. He shared the same hatred of the servants as his mother, and could possibly share the same bloodthirsty nature of his older brother Julien and their father, who loved beating their servants. Elaina didn't much like the servants, but acted more or less indifferent towards them. She was not at all kind towards them, but she wasn't necessarily harsh.

Finally he came across a spot nearby a cage where a seller was yelling at a young servant. The boy couldn't have been more than ten years old, and based on he's size could easily be younger than that. He had messy shoulder length black hair and tanned skin, as was expected, but something in particular caught Matthieu's attention. It drew him closer, and before he knew it he was walking towards the boy and his seller.

The boy's eyes were green. A soft green that showed the fear the boy was so obviously trying to hide. Mixed with the fear was something Matthieu saw in very few servants. He had only seen it in Galinthias and Karsten before. It was hard to find a servant that didn't already have it beaten out of him. There was life in those eyes. A certain glint of mischief and thought, and a refusal to back down and die. The boy stood there silently, his eyes glowing in fear, and yet he refused to be afraid. Those were the eyes of his kitten. The kitten he remembered from so long ago.

"I'll take him."

* * *

Black Spy (10 years old)

Peshka jumped a bit at the voice. It sounded a bit more mature than his own, and turned to see a pair of boys. One of them was a bit taller than him, and probably his age. He stood behind an older boy, who was probably there to buy his first manservant. He looked to be about the right age.

The voice had come out of nowhere. Previously his captor had been yelling his head off about how if he was not sold that day he would be taken down the road, shot, and left there to die. Peshka knew it was a very serious threat. He had seen it happen to plenty of others. Men, women, children, elders, it didn't matter who they were. Every seller had a certain point where he gave up on trying to sell a servant and he would just kill them. This one's happened to be about 3 years.

Suddenly the yells had become silent simply because of the words this boy had said. Peshka frowned a bit. He looked the boy over, noticing the fancy clothes and clean platinum blond hair. He stopped when he reached the boy's eyes. He recognized those eyes.

Those eyes belonged to a dog. A large, white dog. His eyes shone with confidence and feigned indifference, but Peshka could see through the facade he put on. Behind that indifference was so many emotions. The was confusion, a joy that Peshka didn't quite understand, but most of all anger.

Anger at the world, anger at people, really anger at just about everything. Yet that anger faded when their eyes met. It didn't fade completely, but it softened enough for Peshka to feel less afraid. The boy came in peace. He was going to save his life today.

"Matthieu, have you found one," a tall woman came up behind him. Peshka looked at her uneasily. The boy's entire family came with her. They all made him nervous. The seller was currently talking to the father, distracting the family and allowing Peshka to confidently analyze them all.

The father and mother were both taller. They had smooth platinum blond hair, the father's was gelled back, and the mother's curly locks went halfway down her back. They shared ice blue eyes, the same color as their children's, but they lacked the same life the boy's held.

The four children all looked very alike. The eldest was a sixteen year old boy with well groomed, short hair and eyes that showed his calculating mind, and they shone with cruelty. The girl was probably fifteen, and was looking around at the handsome boys her age walking amongst the crowds. Her hair was like her mother's, only it went to her shoulders and she had a rose above her ear. She seemed a bit dull. The youngest, the ten year old boy, had straight hair that went down in a bowl cut, and the same cruel eyes as his eldest brother.

None of them were like the boy. They were too clean, too well put together. The boy's hair was messy, and his eyes more vibrant. He was watching the seller carefully, speaking with him in a professional manner. The amount of professionalism being used truly didn't suit him. He was wild, he needed to be free.

"Matthieu, are you sure you want this one," the father asked the boy. He firmly nodded. Peshka looked down, stopping himself from glaring. It would give him no help. He was small for his age, underfed with little muscle. What did they expect? "Alright, here is your money. Thank you kind sir. Matthieu, go introduce yourself."

"Hello, servant," the boy said, stepping in front of Peshka. His family had turned away, ignoring them. "I am your new master, Matthieu Clair. What is your name?"

"Peshka," he stated. He bowed down, lowering his head. He had seen many other servants do it before, and those that did not were treated harshly. He didn't want to anger his new master, just to be careful. "Peshka Noch."

"You shouldn't bow like that," Matthieu said, pulling him up. Peshka was confused. Had he done something wrong? "Come along Chaton, it is time to go home." Peshka nodded, following him. What was "chaton"? The people of the White embassy had such odd words.

When they got to the house the Peshka was shown to his room and given some time to settle in. The servant quarters were nowhere near as grand as the house, but he hadn't expected them to be. The house was grand and white, with colors or blue, pink, and yellow. The allied embassies of the white embassy. Obviously their family was very patriotic. The servant quarters were small and wooden, four wooden beds to a room and thin blankets with no pillows. It was in fact an improvement from Peshka's situation before. He was used to sleeping on the floor.

He sat on an unmarked bed as three other servants walked in. They were to be his three roommates.

One of them was tall, probably about fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. He had his arm around a much smaller boy who was covered in soot and coughing. Some of his clothes were burned and he had a few burn marks on his skin. The tall boys dark blue shone with anger and hate. His long black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail which came to his lower back. Peshka could barely see the coughing boy's eyes, but they appeared to be an odd golden color.

The final one appeared to be sixteen. He walked over as the pony tailed boy sat the gold eyed one on the bad, and began cleaning him up, his green eyes giving away his worry. Peshka watched until the golden eyed boy was cared for, and then he decided to speak up.

"What happened to him?"

The sixteen year old jumped off the bed in surprise, looking to see the ten year old. The fourteen year old looked over at him, and then returned his attention to the smaller boy in his arms. That boy, however, looked over to him in curiosity.

"Oh, the youngest of the boys decided to play a harsh prank on Karsten," the eldest explained. "Are you Master Matthieu's new manservant?"

"Yes, my name is Peshka," Peshka introduced him self. "What did the boy do."

"I was cleaning chimney and that brat lit the fire underneath me," the twelve year snapped.

"You really should mind the way you talk about them, or else Master Nicolas will beat you half to death again."

"Let him kill me."

"That is Karsten," the eldest boy sighed. "He doesn't really belong in any particular place. My name is Biagio, I'm Master Julien's manservant. That is the stable boy, Galinthias." Peshka looked over at Galinthias. The tall boy scared him a bit. There was just something off about him.

"You got lucky," Galinthias told him. Peshka cocked his head. "Your master is a kind one. Master Julien takes great in working Biagio till he cries at night. He is a cruel, cruel boy."

"Yes, but poor Karsten does get the brunt of it."

"I'll live," Karsten spat. He then looked over at Peshka. "Listen, kid, here's all you need to know. Keep your mouth shut around the mother and father, Mistress Arielle and Master Nicolas. They'll snap you for even speaking. Master Julien is a sick boy, but be the most careful when he's with that horse of his. He's commanded that thing to run me over more times that once." Peshka nodded, a little annoyed a being called a kid by someone two years his elder, but taking in the information nonetheless. "Elaina isn't too bad. If she's in a real bad mood she might scathe you with her words, but that's it. Master Accel, the youngest brother, is a little prick. Don't ever be around him alone, because he will do horrible things to you."

"Stop frightening him," Biagio snapped. Karsten rolled his eyes and leaned into Galinthias's shoulder, listening to him go on about the horses. "Peshka, you should get ready to go to work. I'll escort you to your post, but then I must get back to my master."

Peshka nodded, pulling out his pocket watch for a second. He had kept that hidden for five years. He ran his fingers over the groves, bringing it up his mouth and kissing it. His only memory of his father left was a dead body on the floor, but he missed him all the same. There were a few more of his mother, but they were all full of hatred. His grip tightened around the pocket watch, and then he put it back in his pocket, following Biagio out there door.

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Gah...I have school tomorrow...I just started my sophomore year of high school last week and it SUCKS. At least I have time to write down my ideas in class. Anyway, I hope you like it. I'll update again soon.

Holy motherfucking shit this chapter is long.


	5. Chapter 5

a/n Okay, I lied a bit. You won't need to have paid so much attention to the other servants in this chapter. This chapter will be very emotionally based and you will HATE Matthieu's family.

Disclaimer: :P

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White Spy (14 years)

Matthieu sat on his bed, boredly watching his servant clean his room. The black haired boy was very tense, or at least he appeared to be. Peshka didn't seem to like to talk to him, which frustrated Matthieu to no end. He quite liked the quiet servant. He wanted that life in his eyes to come out and play.

He smirked, thinking up a quick plan to get the boy pay more attention to him, and less to his wardrobe. Books always brought out the best in the people. They were entertaining, though how could they not be? There was nothing better than a good story.

"Peshka," he called. The green eyes focused onto him. "Go and get me my favorite book." Peshka walked over to Matthieu massive bookshelf, looking over at him once again. Matthieu then realized that the child had no idea which book it was. How could he? "It's the one labeled The Legend of Twilight." Peshka looked back at the bookshelf, and Matthieu shook his head. He had forgotten servants couldn't read. "It's the one with the green vines wrapped around the sword."

Peshka immediately brought it over to him, and turned to return to his work. Matthieu grabbed his arm, stopping him. He looked back to the rich boy, his eyes full of confusion.

"Is there something else you need," he asked cautiously. Matthieu resisted rolling his eyes. The boy was too cautious. He needed to relax.

"Yes," Matthieu nodded. "I want you to listen to this story." Peshka cocked his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "It's a really good story. I think you'll really like it." Peshka nodded, still prepared to get up at a moments notice.

Everyday Matthieu would read aloud one chapter from his twenty chapter book. The story was about a young elf man from the world of light who's world was overtaken by darkness, known as twilight. He was turned into a wolf, and had to work with an imp to save the world of light, along with a beautiful princess. Matthieu had been correct, Peshka loved the story. He discovered a love for fantasy, but his favorite part was that the elf was a musician, and played music to make things happen. Well, when he was a wolf he howled.

After discovering the boy's fascination with music, Matthieu gave him the acoustic guitar his father wanted him to learn. He had no interest in learning guitar, but he loved seeing the joy that came to Peshka's eyes when he figured out how to play it. He had a natural ear, and an amazing voice. Matthieu could in fact play, and had begun training the boy's voice when no one was around.

Peshka also became his sparring partner. Matthieu's family forced him to learn fencing and hand to hand combat, and he practiced with his manservant, who was even beginning to pick up on skills on his own.

He began to feel a connection to the boy. Peshka was no longer known as just his manservant. Peshka became a musically inclined, quick learning, amateur inventor. He noticed the boys ability to work with mechanics when he began fixing all the things Matthieu broke, which were a lot of things. He thought that perhaps he was becoming friends with the boy.

Then everything went wrong.

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Black Spy (11 years)

Peshka was nervous. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He wasn't allowed to get attached to people. It wasn't allowed to happen. Everyone he became attached too, they died. He didn't want Matthieu to die. Yet he didn't want to leave the boy's side.

Matthieu had shown him a world of things he loved. Stories, magic, music. Things he had never gotten a chance to hear of before. There had been no magic in his world. No music, no love, no handsome elves fighting to save beautiful princesses. There had only been hate and pain. He couldn't get attached to anyone if he was to survive. He wouldn't be able to.

One day he was sitting on Matthieu's bed, listening the boy read from another book. This one was called The Fairies of Avalon, and it was about a young prince who's kingdom is taken from him, and gets it back through the help of the fairy kingdom. He truly did love fantasy.

"Matthieu it's time to pick out the foxe-" Nicolas stopped when he saw the scene before his eyes. Matthieu didn't appear to notice, or he just didn't care, but Peshka did. He scrambled to get off the bed and make it appear as though he was doing something, but Nicolas put up a hand to stop him. Peshka quivered in fear, and by then Matthieu had stopped reading to look up at his father. "Both of you, outside my office."

Peshka was the first to go in. He stood in front of Nicolas's desk, feeling as though he shouldn't sit on the large leather chairs. However, when Nicolas motioned for him to sit, he immediately followed the command.

"Servant, what is your name," Nicolas asked.

"Peshka," he swallowed. "Peshka Noch."

"Well, Peshka, I can see my son is becoming rather attached to you." Peshka nodded. "Now I don't see a problem with that." He cocked his head in confusion. Something didn't feel right about what was going on. "In fact you could become a large asset, so I want to get to know you first. Now, what is your most valued possession?" Peshka took out his father's pocket watch, reluctantly handing it to Nicolas. "This is very nice. How did you get it?"

"My father gave it to me," he answered, attempting to keep himself calm. Something felt poisonous in the air. He didn't like it in the slightest.

"What happened to your father?"

"My mother made him stab himself in the stomach." Nicolas was quiet for a few seconds, and then he spoke again.

"What happened to your mother?"

"She was part of a suicide cult."

"How unfortunate," Nicolas nodded. He then placed the pocket watch down on his desk. Peshka stopped himself from reaching for it. "Matthieu, come in." Matthieu reluctantly walked in. "Son, you're not in any trouble, but you need to learn a lesson."

"And what would that be?" Peshka was holding his breath. Matthieu shouldn't be back talking his father. It was a horrible idea.

"You appear to be growing an attachment to this servant."

"Yes, and?"

"A young business man should know better than that," Nicolas stated, standing up. Peshka was about to stand as well, but Nicolas motioned for him to remain seated. Peshka pushed himself as far into the chair as possible, trying to make himself disappear. "See that pocket watch, that is this servant's most prized possession, just as he seems to be yours. He received it from his father, who was killed by his mother, who then joined a suicide cult."

"That's horrible," Matthieu exclaimed, looking at Peshka in shock. Peshka continued to attempt to disappear. He closed his eyes, realizing what was going to happen next.

"No, it's meaningless," Nicolas said, his voice in a chilling, calm tone. "This servant is a possession, therefore his mean nothing. They are goods to be traded, just as he his. That is why he shouldn't get attached to these items, just as you shouldn't to him."

"He's not a possession!"

"He's a toy, Matthieu. We bought him for your birthday last year, and one day, you may sell him, or trade him for a better manservant," Nicolas explained. "Now, I want you to break this watch."

Peshka's eyes shot open.

"...What?"

"You heard me," Nicolas said. "Break it."

Peshka began to shake slightly, his heart pounding. Not the watch, not the watch. Matthieu was silent for what felt like ages, before finally began to move. He stood in front of the watch, and Peshka saw him mouth something. It looked to be "I'm sorry". And then he broke it.

"Very good," Nicolas praised. Matthieu wouldn't look at him, and all of Peshka's focus was the broken watch that sat on the desk. "I'll leave you both to reflect." With that, Nicolas left the room.

Both of the them remained still for a long time, neither speaking a word. Finally Matthieu began to move, and he picked up the broken watch. He brought it over to Peshka, and put the pieces into his hands.

"I thought maybe you'll be able to fix it," he muttered, voice full of guilt. Peshka looked down at the pieces. Was this a piece offering? He looked up at Matthieu unable to see his blue orbs, and leaped forward, wrapping his arms around his torso. He felt Matthieu wrap his arms around him, and sobbed into the only comfort he had.

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THE FEELS! Alright, that's it for now people. I'll update soon, and I hope you like it!

Please review!


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